Lead To Gold
by Gindokei
Summary: A collection of short one-shots on various topics. The one-shots are not interconnected unless otherwise stated. #21 - sometimes, the years were just too much. Age is a terrible thing, but lost youth is even worse.
1. Nestling

_Nestling_

**AN: I just watched episode 39 of **_**Brotherhood**_**, and I'm not sure why, but I think Winry could be a great motherly/sisterly influence on Mei...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_**.**

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**Winry Rockbell awoke to the sound of quiet sobs.

She blinked in the darkness, her senses still too hazy to locate the exact position of the sound. Sleeping underground bothered her – she'd never thought of herself as claustrophobic, but the mining tunnels were dark and cold and restrictive. She didn't like them, and she was glad that they would be leaving the tunnels soon.

They'd set up a watch, and Winry had been first on the list. She knew that Dr. Marcoh had gone after her, and then one of the chimeras – Mei was supposed to be taking the second-last watch. She'd protested at the decision, feeling that allotting such a late slot to a child was unfair, but Mei had stubbornly refused to be pampered and coddled.

Winry sat up abruptly, hearing the sobs intensify in volume. Whoever was crying had retreated some distance away from the group. She got to her feet and blinked again, making out the sprawling shape of Marcoh next to her. The crying seemed to be coming from her left, and so Winry headed in that direction, feeling concerned.

She came across a small huddled figure about seven feet away from the sleeping group. Winry knelt down and smoothed the young girl's hair, her hands instinctively moving to pull Mei close to her. The little girl continued to sob, her panda whining in distress on the ground next to her. Winry rocked her body gently, her throat feeling strangely tight.

"Ssshh," she crooned softly, rubbing circles in the girl's back. "It's okay. It's okay."

Winry hadn't liked Mei Chang at first sight, but that could have been because the girl had accused Alphonse of two-timing her with Winry. The auto-mail mechanic had been more than a little irritated at the accusation, mostly because Mei had struck her as a very flighty girl. She'd picked up on a note of panic in Alphonse's hurried apology, and she hadn't wanted her dear friend to fall for such a fickle character.

But as they'd journeyed together through the mining tunnels, Winry had discovered a different side of Mei – a girl with determination like steel and a terrible case of homesickness. When Mei had talked about how her clan was depending on her to bring back the secret to immortality, Winry had been reminded of her own customers in Rush Valley, and how she was letting them down.

While Mei was almost naively childish at times, she refused to be treated like a little girl by others. Although she obsessed over Alphonse, she also had a clear goal in mind, and she was unwilling to let her infatuation sway her(well, at least not _too_ much...). She was trying too hard to grow up, and it made Winry want to cry, because she'd seen what growing up too quickly could do to a person.

Mei clutched the fabric of Winry's coat between her fingers, her body shivering and shuddering with her weeping. "I want to go home," she whimpered, eyes screwed shut. "I want to go home."

Tears rose unbidden to Winry's eyes, and she hugged the girl closer. "I know," she whispered, stroking her hair, "I know. Just hold on – you'll be able to go home soon."

Mei gulped loudly, but Winry's soothing gestures were obviously working. The Xingese girl quietened, her head resting in the crook of Winry's neck. The auto-mail mechanic patted Mei's back gently and continued to murmur words of assurance. Eventually, the girl fell asleep.

Winry sat in the cold tunnel and cradled the girl close to her. After a while, she, too, fell asleep – and dreamed of a little girl with golden hair and golden eyes, asleep in her lap.

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**AN: 616 words. Even though Mei is VERY childish – I don't deny that at all – I think she's trying to grow up. She fights by herself, she travelled across a desert to save her clan – she definitely has a premature maturity about her. And I think Winry is a very motherly sort of character. No, really. I'm sure she wouldn't beat her own children with a wrench...**


	2. Zephyr Song

_Zephyr Song_

**AN: I have no idea where this came from. My first anime-verse piece, I believe...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_**.**

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**"Where I came from, alchemy was normal. Well, not normal, exactly, but it was a part of life. We even had alchemists working for the military, used as human weapons in the battlefield... they were a lot more devastating than any other type of artillery, I can tell you that. On the enemy troops, too – but the effect on their minds and consciences was far, far more severe.

"I started studying alchemy when I was just a little kid. My brother and I found some of our old man's books, and we started reading 'em. Mom found us knee-deep in them one day, and when we actually performed alchemy for her, she was proud as hell. She bragged to _everyone_. So we kept doing it. We had fun, too. I didn't like him much then, but my brother and I worked together well.

"We thought it could change the world. That _we_ could change the world. When Mom died... we went against the flow of the world. We tried to bring her back, using alchemy. We thought it could do that much – that it could return the dead to us. It was like magic and science in one. I can't tell you properly, how much it meant to us.

"But here... here, no one cares about alchemy. It's not a science, it's not something to study for years, to master – it's something that's ridiculed. A person studying alchemy is called crazy, or worse... people call the Philosopher's Stone 'an impossible myth'. We never thought that. We believed it was out there somewhere, because we wanted to believe. And then we found it... we found it.

"It's just a joke on this side of the Gate, isn't it? Lead to gold, ha ha, what a riot. Immortality? Tempting, but impossible. Alchemy? It's shit, you can't do anything with it, it's just _occult_ crap.

"And it hurts so much – too much, sometimes. Because something that is so dear to me is treated like dirt here. That's why I hate it so much – not because the people are sadistic bastards, or because the government is fundamentally flawed. It's because they step on the one thing I believed in, and they grind it into the ground."

Edward Elric sucks in a breath, coughing harshly. His once-blond hair is now pale gray, although one or two strands of molten gold still remain. Silver and gold, the two most precious metals. His face is withered, and his cheeks sag limply. His knotted hands are folded in his lap.

A still-rosy hand rests tenderly on his shoulder. "That's enough, brother," Alphonse Elric chides gently. Although he, too, is getting on in years, he does not look nearly as old as his elder brother, despite the fact that only around seven or eight years separate them. His hair is still chestnut, although the streaks of white in it are clearly visible.

"Don't strain yourself," he continues in the same, soft tone. Edward shakes his head slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

"I'm not straining myself."

"Is it true?" a new voice pipes up, unspeakably sweet and young. "Where you came from... could you really perform alchemy?" The young woman looks to be about eighteen, and her lovely golden hair is tied back in a high ponytail. Only two strands are allowed to fall free, framing her pretty, round face. She sits, cross-legged, at the foot of Edward's rocking chair.

"It's true," Edward answers gravely, gazing at the girl with a tender expression. Alphonse tightens his grip on his brother's shoulder ever so slightly, and Edward winces. The girl leans forward in alarm, her slender hands reaching for his veined ones.

"I'm fine, Winry," Edward rasps, pulling his hands away unsubtly.

Winry smiles slightly, but her face is troubled. "It's so hard to believe, though..."

The creases in Edward's face fall in wrinkled folds. "I know," he sighs tiredly. His dim eyes close.

"But I still believe you!" she adds hastily. Edward smiles faintly, his eyes still shut.

"I know," he repeats. Alphonse leans down to rest his cheek on his brother's soft hair.

"Alchemy..." Winry breathes, bright blue eyes wide with wonder. "I wonder what it's like?"

Edward's smile widens, even as a tear slips down his cheek. Regret – because she is not _his_ Winry, because he found her too late – fills him. Maybe it was a mistake to tell her.

"It's impossible to describe," he tells her gently. "But even though it was powerful, there were rules. And there were some things it could never create once gone."

Like the girl with the sunlit hair and lively eyes that he still remembers.

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**AN: 777 words **

**I don't know where the title came from, weirdly enough. And I have no idea if a character****'****s German counterpart has to be the same age as him/her or not.  
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	3. Simple Days

_Simple Days_

**AN: Ed's promises to Winry are usually sweet, so I played with the end of the OVA **_**Simple People**_** and wrote this. Post-manga.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_** – Ms. Hiromu Arakawa does.**

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**"_Bye guys – hurry back soon, okay? And write once in a while!" Winry Rockbell grinned teasingly as she placed her hands on her hips and mock-glared at the two figures in front of her. Alphonse laughed in response, while Edward scowled and pretended he hadn't noticed the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Alphonse patted her comfortingly on the shoulder, the fingers of his gauntlet brushing her sensitive ear pinna. Winry winced involuntarily at the contact, and then sighed resignedly as her childhood friends proceeded to explode._

"_Are you stupid?!" Edward yelled at her, his golden eyes alight with anger. "Why the hell'd you pierce your ears again? Stupid girl!"_

_Alphonse was gentler but no less disapproving. "You shouldn't subject yourself to pain like that unnecessarily," he reprimanded her softly. Winry frowned, clapping her hands to her ears and ignoring the pain that shot through her at the motion._

"_I just want to keep you guys close," she replied quietly, "and if you gave me earrings... I couldn't _not_ wear them. It makes me happy, okay?" Alphonse was rendered speechless and Winry smiled, proud of herself for not losing her temper._

_Then Edward had to intercede. "I still think it's really idiotic," he grumbled in an exaggeratedly loud voice. "I mean, who maims herself on purpose?" With that snide comment, Winry's temper flared, and she smacked Edward on the shoulder. He yelped in pain._

"_I'm sorry if I'm _so_ stupid!" she yelled angrily. "Anyway, calling someone stupid only makes you stupid yourself!"_

"_As if! I'm not stupid, _you_ are!"_

"_Stupid bean sprout!"_

"_WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!"_

_As soon as Edward had calmed down – with some help from Alphonse, and Winry giggling in the background – he turned to his friend, a scowl still on his face. "Since you do idiotic things about gifts, I'm not going to get you anymore." At Winry's crestfallen look – she _was_ still a girl, after all, and enjoyed being given presents – he backtracked. "Well, not earrings, anyway." Alphonse chuckled quietly to himself as his brother added, in a strangely bashful tone of voice – "I'll get you something better next time."_

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_"Of course I remember that!" Winry gasped, her body shaking with laughter. "God, Ed, you were such a _jerk_," she remarked playfully, nudging the young man beside her with one shoulder. Edward grinned widely, although a part of him was wincing inwardly at the memory. Winry sure hit hard...

"Well, you weren't exactly a dove yourself," he teased back, lying back on her bed and ignoring her protests of 'hey, that's my bed! Go get your own!' "I certainly learned something that day about masochistic women."

Winry scowled. "Shut up."

"Make me," Edward invited, and Winry obliged with alacrity – prodding his sides with one finger in order to make him squirm. Edward smiled infuriatingly at her attempt to make him move, and Winry huffed in irritation.

"Dammit, I forgot you weren't ticklish," she grumbled, crossing her arms and pouting childishly. Edward laughed and sat up, ruffling her hair teasingly. It was getting easier and easier to demonstrate his affection towards the girl in a more physical manner – a hug here, a kiss there – but he was still sometimes afraid of being too affectionate. The ones you love are always the ones you lose first – he'd learned that the hard way.

"Well, I did make a promise that day, didn't I?" he murmured, and something in his tone of voice made Winry turn to look him in the face. Edward cleared his throat, looking unusually shy. "And after many years, I think I've found the right thing."

Winry's eyes narrowed in puzzlement as Edward withdrew something small and silver from his coat pocket. He held it out towards her, and the small golden gem on it caught the light. It shone like a miniature sun, like his eyes.

"It's not an engagement ring," he added, misreading the utter shock on her face. "I don't think either of us is ready for that, not yet... and Al still needs a lot of my attention. But it's a promise. A different one."

Winry's eyes filled. She'd had no idea Edward was capable of being so romantic. When he'd appeared at Garfiel's, she'd thought he'd come for a tune-up or to inform her about Alphonse – not to _give_ her something. He usually gave her gifts only when it suited himself, and that made the poignancy of his most recent gift all the more touching.

"Ed," she sniffed, "you're so stupid. Who tells a girl he's not ready to marry her?" She covered her face with her hands but peeked through her fingers to look at Edward's bemused face.

"I'm _joking_," she laughed, dropping her hands and flinging her arms around his neck. "I can wait, Ed. I can wait for as long as you need."

Edward smiled as he tenderly slipped the ring onto her finger. Winry hugged him again, and Edward made a mental note to thank his little brother when he got back to Central.

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**AN: 837 words. Let's admit it, Al is **_**leagues**_** ahead of Ed when it comes to romance. This is probably set around three or four months after Al gets his body back. I didn't mention Ed's arm or leg because at this rate, I'm really not sure if he'll get them back or not!**


	4. Hers

_Hers_

**AN: Randomness. That'****s all I can say.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Fullmetal Alchemist_.**

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**The man smiled slowly, his lips parting to reveal jagged teeth. "The quality of the Amestrian military has really deteriorated if all they can afford to send out is kids," he jeered, pressing forward to trap the young alchemist against the alley wall. The boy huffed under his breath and ducked, attempting to slash at the man's exposed sides.

"Ah, ah, ah," the man tutted in mock reprimand, "not today." He brought his elbow down to strike the flat of the alchemist's blade, revealing a slender dagger thrust through a sheath on his upper arm.

"Shut the hell up," the alchemist growled through clenched teeth, his golden braid swinging as he leapt up and cleared his opponent. The man whirled around, his bald head shining under the dim streetlights. The alchemist clapped his hands together and landed in a crouched position, palms pressed against the concrete. A humongous fist of cement emerged in a crackle of blue light, speeding towards the man with deadly force.

The man snarled as his body was sent flying backwards. "Goddamnit, you little runt!" he howled, staggering to his feet. "I'll get you for this, so help me!"

"You can try," Edward Elric retorted in a cocky voice, his arrogance disappearing rapidly as the man charged towards him, slipping out the dagger from the sheath on his arm. Edward took a step back and held his transmuted arm up, ready to parry the criminal's thrust. To his surprise, the man stopped abruptly, dagger still clenched in one hand. Edward grinned at his good luck and circled around the man, eying him carefully for any sign of sudden movement.

"Cat got your tongue? Or legs, it seems."

The man smirked and twirled the dagger between his fingers. "You wish, alchemist," he muttered, and attacked suddenly. Edward was taken aback at the criminal's speed – he'd thought the man to be injured from his collision with the wall. But the man swiftly ducked under his wayward swing and lodged his dagger in Edward's right arm. The alchemist was unable to feel the pain, but he winced at the sight of the man twisting the dagger furiously into his arm. He delivered a well-aimed kick that caught the man in his side and sent him lurching to his right.

"Your arm's gone, little boy," the criminal jeered, clutching his side. Edward noted with mild surprise that the man had caught him on the forehead some time ago – blood was dripping into his left eye. He wiped it away carelessly and pulled the dagger out in one smooth move, flexing his metal fingers and waving them tauntingly in the man's face.

"You might know your auto-mail pretty well, old man," he spoke as he stalked closer, "and you might know where to jam a weapon in order to stop it from working. But this is her auto-mail. Don't underestimate it."

And with that, he lunged forward and caught the fleeing man by his wrist, twisting the arm to render him immobile. "Funny," he said sarcastically, "you looked so victorious not too long ago. Lost your spirit?"

The man looked at him with terrified eyes, and Edward wondered what had brought about such a change in the swaggering, boastful man.

When the military police came to collect the criminal, Edward rolled his shoulders and yawned. Alphonse would be getting worried – he'd only meant to leave his brother to take a call at the reception, a call that had eventually sent him running after an escaped convict. Edward looked down at his auto-mail arm – unfortunately, his opponent _had_ known what he was doing. Flexing the fingers was becoming harder – Edward wasn't sure what he'd done, but he'd probably damaged something that would take time to fix. He groaned at the thought of Winry and her spanner.

"Brother," Alphonse reprimanded him gently, "you _really_ shouldn't be so reckless."

"Get off my case," Edward grumbled, flopping onto the bed. "I wasn't hurt, was I?"

"But Winry's gonna be mad," Alphonse said mournfully. Edward snorted into his pillow.

"That scared of her, are you, Al?"

"No," Alphonse replied seriously. "I'm scared for you. There's a difference."

Edward smiled into the pillow. "Yeah, well, I need to thank her." He rolled over and thrust his right arm into the air, watching it catch the light. "Her auto-mail's the best there is."

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**AN: 725 words. My first actual action sequence – yay? Got the idea from watching the OVA **_**Simple People**_**, when Ed tells that Xing-ish guy he's fighting that 'it's **_**her**_** auto-mail'. He sounded so sweet. : D**


	5. Beautiful Lie

_Beautiful Lie_

**Disclaimer: **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_** certainly doesn't belong to me!**

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**Winry was in the kitchen when she heard the confident knock on the door. She was up to her elbows in flour and in the process of cooking a meat pie for her grandmother's friends – but at the sound of the knock, she immediately dropped her rolling pin and sprinted towards the door, flour still streaked all over her face.

There was only one person she knew who knocked like that.

Winry opened the door hesitantly, almost afraid to find what would be on the other side. Surely... surely Edward and Alphonse would have completed their goal? Surely fate wouldn't be so cruel as to deny them the chance to go back to a normal life?

Finally, she pulled it open fully and was treated to the sight of Edward's collarbone.

_He really has to stop growing so much..._ she thought ruefully, chuckling softly.

"About time. I thought you'd never open the damn door," Edward commented irritably. Winry raised her gaze to his face, frowning slightly. Something seemed... off, about his expression. And... and where was Al...? She glanced behind the alchemist, but she couldn't see a suit of armor or a young boy's body. What was going on?

"Ed?" she said gently, questioningly. Edward avoided her gaze, running one finger up and down his right arm. Winry's eyes shot to the arm, and her body stiffened in shock when she saw that it was still metal.

"Ed? Ed, please tell me what happened... why... I thought you were supposed to get your arm back?"

"Winry..." Edward's voice was serious, too serious. Winry clapped her hands to her mouth, ignoring the grittiness of the flour underneath her fingertips.

"No," she mumbled, her eyes filling with tears. "No, no, no..."

Edward looked alarmed. "Hey now, don't cry! I haven't even said anything yet!" he protested.

"But where's Al?" she asked desperately, her shoulders beginning to shake. "He's not here... and your arm..."

Her body stopped quivering as she got a good look at Edward's face – yes, it was serious, but there was no _sadness_ there. Surely, if Alphonse hadn't gotten his body back... or worse... Edward would not look so... so... _gleeful_?

"You were really going to cry, weren't you?" he chortled, throwing his head back and laughing. "I didn't think I was such a good actor – it was so hard to be serious with your face all covered with flour!"

Winry's eyes widened. "But your arm?" she asked again. Edward shrugged carelessly, lifting his right arm to playfully flick her on the forehead. Winry winced – metal fingers hurt a little more than flesh fingers – and Edward instantly looked contrite.

"Sorry. But seriously, Winry. There was no need to take me so seriously."

"You _idiot_!" she cried, folding her arms and glaring at him. "I was so _worried_! And that's how you reply?"

"Nothing's wrong," he assured her with a big grin. "Although I do have someone I want you to meet..."

He stepped aside and revealed the boy who had been standing behind him, three steps down on the porch. Alphonse's body was still skinny, and his hair had been cut quite unprofessionally – but his golden eyes were alight with laughter, and his skin was flushed pink. Winry stared at him for a few seconds, her mouth flopping open like a goldfish's.

"Geez, big brother, I never knew you could be so cruel," Alphonse commented, laughing. "Poor Winry! I'm sorry, it was my idea..."

"Al..." The tears on Winry's face made tracks through the white flour, which sent the Elric brothers into hysterics again. "Shut up!" she reprimanded them crossly, wiping furiously at her face. "I... I..."

She rushed down those three steps and embraced Alphonse, squeezing his fragile body so tightly that she was almost afraid she would break him. Alphonse wrapped his arms around her in turn, and they held each other, Winry sobbing uncontrollably.

Edward watched them both and wished he had the courage to join in.

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**AN: 660 words. I like imagining the Elric brothers playing a trick on Winry... although I'm sure they'd never go as far as this! I don't see Ed getting his limbs back anymore, unfortunately.**


	6. Guilt

_Guilt_

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_**.**

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**_Huff... huff... huff..._

_It's a long sprint to the front of the mansion. He knows that there's something he has to stop there – something being done that is terribly and utterly wrong. He needs to get there in time, but his legs feel like lead, and his lungs burn with every breath he sucks in. It's too far away._

_He lowers his head and grits his teeth, unwilling to give in just yet. Something inside him _pulls_ him towards the empty old house. The sky is an ominous gray, and a crow perched on a bare branch caws derisively. He pushes himself, willing his legs to move, to reach that ajar door..._

_He pushes open the door, one hand gripping the doorknob tightly to maintain his balance. His body wobbles slightly, but he's fine in a few seconds. He cautiously walks down the dark hallway, deja vu tugging at his memory while something else tells him he should be running faster._

_Finally, he reaches an open doorway, with the sound of a human voice issuing from it. He widens his eyes and steps through the doorway, ready to face whoever it was that lurked in the shadows of the room._

"_Oh, Edward. You made it." Shou Tucker looks pleasantly surprised. "Look at what I've done – just in time for the assessment day, too."_

_Edward takes one look at the white-and-brown-furred creature and realizes what it is._

Huff... huff... huff...

Edward awakes with a muted gasp, the bed sheets crumpled between his fingers. He stares at the dark ceiling for a few moments as he regains his composure, his entire body shaking with silent sobs. He can't forget her. It has been almost ten years, and he still can't forget that day.

He turns on his side and stares fearfully at the woman sleeping beside him. Winry's hair is strewn across the pillow, and her face is tranquil in sleep. Her mouth is open, and she snores softly. Edward closes his eyes and reaches blindly for her hand, not wanting to see the concern on her face, and yet wanting the comfort of her warm touch.

Winry wakes up almost instantly. Edward can hear it, by the way her breathing quickens and her fingers move to clasp his. He presses his cheek into the pillow and speaks gently.

"You're okay?"

"I think I should be the one asking you that," she replies softly, her other hand rising to brush his hair away from his forehead. "What's wrong?" Edward hesitantly opens his eyes, and then immediately wishes he hadn't – Winry's blue gaze looks so worried.

"Nothing," he mutters, and Winry's eyes acquire a strange steel. It's not angry, not really, but it's _stern_.

"Edward Elric," she hisses, "we have been married for three years. _When_ are you finally going to open up to me?" Her voice becomes quieter, sadder. "I know you've been through hell... but I want to help you, and I can't do that if you always keep me at an arm's distance."

Edward swallows. She's right, of course – she's given him this speech quite a few times since they married, and each time, he promises to tell her everything. But he can't. Winry is so soft and gentle and fragile – even though she would argue otherwise, Edward knows exactly how easy it is to break Winry Rockbell.

But the night is so stifling, and the horror of his dream still lingers. Edward shifts closer to her and strokes her hair, the colour more silver than golden in the moonlight.

He tells her the story in a quiet voice. Later, he wishes he hadn't been so blunt about it – even if he wanted to tell Winry everything, he forgot to remember her fragility. Winry listens silently, her fingers wrapped around his.

After he is done, she holds him close and cries with him. They both cry for the little girl who had her entire life ahead of her. They cry for the father who didn't think he had any other choice. They cry together, and they feel better after it.

After pulling away from Winry, Edward scrubs at his cheeks self-consciously. He doesn't like crying so freely – the intensity of his feelings scares him. Winry studies him through gentle, forgiving eyes.

"It's not your fault," she tells him, and he believes her. "It's not your fault."

Edward nods, shifting closer again – he enjoys the warmth of her body. "But I swear, Winry –" his voice quivers faintly, and a fleeting smile crosses her face – "I will _never_ do that. To you or... or to anyone. I'll never do that."

"I know," she comforts him. She accepts his words so easily. "I know, Ed."

Her breath is warm on his neck, and he allows his hand to slip down her body and rest on her belly. It's not too swollen yet, but Edward can imagine a heavily pregnant Winry already. Winry clasps his hand in both of her own.

"I know," she repeats in a firmer voice. "And the little one knows, too." She smiles at him sleepily. "You'd... never..." She drifts off into slumber before she can finish the sentence.

Edward closes his eyes and allows himself to fall back to sleep, his palm still resting gently on the bump that will soon be his own child.

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**AN: 887 words. I'm sure Edward feeling guilty about Nina has been done a million times before... but I think if/when Edward ever has a child, some part of his mind would dwell on what Tucker did to his daughter.**

**Edward crying seems weirdly out of character, especially since he always wants to be so strong for everyone, but, um, well...**


	7. Paternal

_Paternal_

**AN: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_**.**

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**Scar did not approve.

He did not approve of her mindless devotion to the younger Elric brother. It was nothing personal – he had nothing against young Alphonse, but Mei Chang's obvious affection for the boy disturbed him. He wasn't sure why – after all, it was merely a case of puppy love, and would soon fade. But the fact that Mei was willing to throw everything away for him – _he saw where her gaze went when she protested against going home_ – made him grit his teeth. Such a foolish girl, he thought darkly, so ready to give up her goal for a mere boy.

His strangely jealous frame of mind startled him, and he began to look at the girl in a new light. He realized exactly how many times he'd performed unnecessary acts of kindness for her. Mei had inspired humanity in him once more – meeting her had possibly been the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He didn't want to give her up. He wondered idly if this was how a father felt – this unreasonable enmity toward the object of his daughter's affections. It did not disturb him to think of the girl as a daughter – he gritted his teeth over her(about silly things), worried about her safety(even if he didn't show it), looked out for her and taught her what he knew of right and wrong(which wasn't much, he had to admit). He was gentle with her, much gentler than he'd ever been with anyone, because he admired the girl(deep down) and wished he could carry her burden for her.

_That_ was why he didn't want to give her to Alphonse Elric. Mei Chang had come into his life first, had changed his outlook with her silly tantrums and her whimsical fancies _first_. Alphonse Elric had no right to take that all away from him.

Yes, Scar decided, this was _definitely_ how a father felt.

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**AN: 320 words. Fatherly Scar amuses me, and I've always thought of Scar being a possessive sort of dad, kind of like Hughes, except... not as endearing.**


	8. False God

_False God_

**AN: I actually wrote this quite a while back, but I forgot about it and it's been languishing in my computer for some time. I just found it and read over it, and fell in love with it. Hohenheim is just too awesome. Slight spoilers for Hohenheim's past.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_**.**

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Sometimes, Van Hohenheim really thinks he is a god.

It makes sense, in a twisted sort of way. He will live forever. He will never need to fear hunger nor thirst nor death. Gunshots do not wound him. He is capable of altering a substance's physical form without even a circle, as alchemists require, and he has nurtured an entire nation and taught it the ways of healing.

It makes sense.

He does not grow old. His body does not decay. He can hear the voices of countless people inside him, inside his very body. He can hear them crying out in pain, in longing, in sadness and in anger. He can speak to them.

He knows of things that no other human being knows. He knows of the ancient civilization of Cselkcess, still remembers its beauty and its sandy streets. Even his physical features are unique – golden hair and golden eyes, an anomaly in human appearance.

He has seen the Truth of the world – the events that have already passed, and the ones that will come to pass. The people he taught still call him a 'philosopher'.

But there is one thing that separates Hohenheim from his megalomaniac offspring, the malevolent intelligence that dwells underneath Central City and plots the downfall of mankind.

He does not _want_ to be a god.

If anything, he knows that he is a false god. He knows that he was not made immortal because of his power or knowledge. He knows that he merely chose to make the wrong friends, and that his eternal life was no reward – it was a punishment, a punishment for trusting too quickly and too much. Homunculus's hand had fed him and fattened him, and so he'd naively trusted the shadow's words, not even dreaming of Homunculus's final betrayal.

Hohenheim rubs one hand across his face, the corners of his mouth turning down. Across the fire, his son's golden eyes stare at him warily, unwilling to trust.

The downturned mouth lifts slightly. Although he's heard of stories where gods have children, he's sure that even if they did, they would be nowhere as bright and dedicated as his sons. Their flaws make them human, he reflects, and it is their humanity that he loves most of all.

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**AN: 379 words.**

**Hohenheim, a god... and in the light of Father's recent 'power-up', it seems even odder to think of him like that.**


	9. Mistletoe and Memories

_Mistletoe and Memories_

**AN: Just a Christmas-based fic... post-movie. I think this is only my second first-anime based piece. I haven't seen it for a bit, so some stuff might be off. Probably based off Edward's first Christmas in Germany.**

**Disclaimer: **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_ **isn't mine. Nope, not at all.**

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"I don't understand this concept." He frowned at the glittering tinsel and the bright, flashing lights that hurt his eyes. "Is this some sort of contest to see who can decorate their storefront in the gaudiest fashion possible?"

"No, Ed." Alfons Heiderich sounded amused. "It's Christmas. Don't they have it where you come from?"

"No," Edward Elric muttered in reply, kicking at the snowy pavement morosely. "They don't."

Alfons' teasing expression faded. "I'm sorry... I just assumed..."

"Forget it." Edward sent a heap of snow flying into the air. "It's not important."

Alfons remained silent, but he watched the young man carefully. Edward's golden hair was littered with snowflakes that he made no attempt to brush off, and his brown jacket was liberally sprinkled with water droplets, from where the snow had melted. He didn't look happy – Edward rarely looked truly happy, so that wasn't completely surprising, but to be so solemn on _Christmas Eve_...

"Explain this Christmas to me." Although the words were rude, Edward's tone was polite enough. Alfons smiled slightly and launched into an explanation of the origins of Christmas, going on to add that most people nowadays viewed it as a family holiday more than anything else.

Edward was silent throughout the entire story, his golden eyes distant. He paused by a particularly posh toy store and stared into the display window, fogging it up with his breath. A plush bear sat in one corner, a smart red tie around its neck.

_Brother! Brother, look at her, we can't just leave her here in the cold..._

_Brother, isn't he so cute?_

Edward pressed his forehead against the window and sighed softly. Alfons watched him quietly, ready to interfere in case something happened – which seemed unlikely. After a few moments, Edward exhaled again and lifted his weight off the window, backing away slowly.

"Sorry." His voice was low and strained. "Just... sorry. So it's a holiday for everyone?"

"Mmm," Alfons agreed. "My parents are coming over tonight, along with my younger sister. You'll love them, I promise." He smiled encouragingly at his friend, but Edward did not respond. Instead, he changed the subject.

"Why is all of this," he gestured to the merrily-lit shop windows, "necessary for a family holiday?"

Alfons paused, a little stumped on how to answer. "Well... I suppose everyone wants to buy something nice for the people they love. Doesn't that make sense?"

Edward pressed his lips together. 'To me, a family holiday would just be sitting by the fireplace in the Rockbell household, a piping mug of hot chocolate in my hands and a great deal of home-cooked food in my stomach. To me, it would be to be with the people I love, without flash or glitter – just good, old-fashioned silence and laughter. What's so wrong with that?'

"I guess," he replied, squashing his thoughts instantly. It still pained too much, to be thinking that way.

Alfons looked wry. "You don't really think so, do you?"

"No." Edward saw no point in beating around the bush if Alfons had already seen through him. "Frankly, it's stupid."

Alfons sighed. "Look, Ed, I'm sorry you're not used to all of this yet, but it's not stupid. It means a lot to a lot of people – it's often the only time they see their family, on Christmas. The world is getting more and more spaced out and people are getting scattered. What's so stupid about spending a day together with your family?"

"That's not what I meant," Edward sighed. "But forget it. You stick with your Christmas."

_And I'll stick with mine._

A warm room, with a rug stationed in front of the fire. Alphonse was curled up on the rug like a purring cat, his eyes sleepy. Winry was in and out of the kitchen, ferrying trays of food to them. Her smile lit up the entire room, and as she gently shook Alphonse awake, he relished the sight of his brother wolfing down food.

"Hey, Ed." Winry took a seat next to him, and Alphonse looked up from his plate, swallowing his previous mouthful. Both of them smiled at him, and Edward felt as if his heart would burst with the warmth and affection he felt for them.

"Happy Christmas."

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**AN: 708 words. Since Arakawa said that there was no Christmas in Amestris, I wondered how Ed would react to it. Christmas probably wasn't quite as commercialized back then, but it was still the entire gift-exchange thing, from what I heard. Ed's a guy of simple pleasures, in my opinion.**

**The end part isn't a memory or anything, it's just Ed imagining what it would be like if there was Christmas in Amestris and he was spending it with his brother and best friend.  
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	10. Gossip

_Gossip_

**AN: Because I wanted to try mixing cheeky Roy, sullen Ed and EdWinry all into one drabble. Enjoy. ^^ Spoilers for the manga! Watch out for one or two naughty words from Edward.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_**.**

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**"Hey, Fullmetal."

Edward Elric's head turned at the sound of his military title, almost out of instinct. He scowled across the room at the grinning, raven-haired man. "Don't call me that. I'm not a state alchemist anymore."

"Sorry, force of habit, you know." Roy Mustang leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the young man's head as Edward turned back, his shoulders hunching over the desk as he scribbled madly on a piece of paper. "You're taking this research business pretty seriously, aren't you?"

Edward grunted in reply. "It's fun, I guess. Xingese alkhestry is something else – although I don't think it should be too hard to master it, really." He squinted at the messily-written paper in front of him, still aware of Mustang's intent gaze.

"_What_?" he finally snapped, swiveling his chair and turning around to face the smirking man.

"Nothing," Mustang replied in an innocent tone of voice. "You just seem to be in a rush."

Edward made a face, but the light in his eyes softened. "I promised Al and Winry that I'd be back for dinner. A promise you're not really helping me keep, by the way," he added sourly.

"How's Alphonse doing these days? Almost healed?" Edward wasn't really surprised to hear the undercurrent of concern in Mustang's voice. He'd hated the colonel at first, but he'd also been grateful, because Mustang had given him a goal to work towards. Now that that goal was complete, Edward could sit back and truly appreciate what the man had done for them.

Of course, it wasn't like he was going to _tell_ Mustang. Stupid ass wouldn't wipe the smirk off his face for days if he did.

"Yeah, he's digesting solid food now," he replied reluctantly. "Dunno how the hell his body got nourishment at the Gate, but it sure wasn't through digestion."

"Thank you for the gory details, Fullmetal." Mustang screwed up his nose in disgust. Edward chuckled darkly.

"Squeamish about something as small as that?"

"What about miss Winry?" Roy continued, apparently deaf to Edward's good-natured teasing. "How is she doing?"

Edward was immediately on his guard. Mustang didn't ask about Winry often.

"She's fine," he replied slowly. "Planning on heading back to Rush Valley soon, although she is pretty shocked that the capital of Amestris lacks decent auto-mail shops."

"Hmm." Mustang tapped his pen against the glossy surface of his desk. "And when, exactly, do you plan on telling her?"

Edward's first instinct was to feign ignorance, but that would just prolong the painful conversation. "I don't know," he replied shortly. "When I'm ready to provide for her, I suppose. Also translated as when you give me a pay raise."

Mustang's chuckle was deep and almost sad. "Putting it off isn't going to make it any easier, Fullmetal."

Edward flushed dull red, wondering how a man who couldn't even see anything was so observant. "Winry has her entire life in Rush Valley, and I have my life here. Even Granny's decided to move in with her. What am I supposed to say? 'Stay with me'? I don't want to live my life torn between two places." Hi s mouth twisted as if he'd tasted something bad. "I don't ever want to live like that again."

Mustang sighed. "Edward, you don't even know how she'll respond. She might even decide to set up her own place here, in Central. Or you could move out to Rush Valley, too – research work doesn't require you to be under my thumb at all times."

Edward stared at his two flesh palms, clenching them into fists.

"Why don't you just admit that you're afraid?" Edward's head shot up at that, and he was entirely prepared to snarl a retort at the cheeky bastard, until he saw Mustang's face. His black, sightless eyes were half-lidded, and he wore an expression of such torment that Edward couldn't bear to make a sarcastic reply.

Instead, he turned back to his work. "How about this, Mustang – the day you tell Hawkeye, I'll tell Winry. Deal?"

Mustang smiled faintly, his features clearing up a little.

"Shut up and get back to work, Fullmetal."

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**AN: 691 words. I don't see Mustang and Ed in a parent-son relationship – more like an older-younger brother relationship. I liked writing this – my first time with Mustang. :)**

**The bit about Al's body? Totally made-up. I know Ed hypothesized that his body was providing nutrition for Al's, but I don't know about the details of it, like digestion and so on.  
**


	11. Paint the Town Red

_Paint the Town Red_

**AN: Because I realized that I have never written a Golden Trio fic yet. OH MY GOSH. I must remedy this immediately. Post-manga.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_** definitely does not belong to me.**

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**"Let's go out and party tonight."

Edward Elric sat up from his place on the couch and started blankly at his childhood friend. "Excuse me, _what_?"

"You heard me," Winry Rockbell responded, her blue eyes alight with excitement. "Al's been released after so long, I think that's a good enough reason to celebrate!"

Edward made a noise of disbelief. "Yeah, he's been released, but that doesn't mean he can go out and get himself smashed," he argued. Winry picked up a pillow from the bed and launched it, with impressive aim, at Edward's head.

"I didn't say we'd get drunk, idiot! Although I have a feeling we'll be hauling your sorry butt back to the hotel after midnight…" Winry added slyly, and giggled to herself as Edward's face turned red.

"Why, you…!"

"_Brother_. Stop." Alphonse was lying on the bed that Winry was sitting on, but at the sound of his brother beginning one of his tantrums, Alphonse sat up. "Geez, does no one bother to ask me what I want to do?" he joked. Winry smiled fondly and ruffled his recently-trimmed hair.

"If you have a problem, Al, say the word," she spoke, her smile motherly as she looked at him. Alphonse shook his head, his cheeks flushed with color.

"No way. It sounds like fun," he replied cheerfully. "Come on, brother, I know you and Winry will take care of me. Let's go and have a blast, please? There are so many nice places in Central that we haven't visited yet."

Edward looked from Winry's smiling face to Alphonse's eager one. "Fine," he sighed, his tone rueful. "Let's do it."

Winry squealed in delight, and Alphonse grinned broadly. Edward laughed as he allowed himself to be swept up in their embrace, feeling younger than he'd ever felt before.

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"Okay, so we have a reservation at that fancy Xingese place at nine, so we have time to kill," Alphonse spoke. Winry's answering grunt came from the bathroom, where she was trying out various outfits. Edward and Alphonse were already dressed – Alphonse in a casual suit, Edward even more casual in just pants and a dress shirt.

Finally, the bathroom door opened and Winry stepped out, accompanied by various citrus scents. She twirled, the skirt of her dress flaring out, and grinned at her friends.

"Well, I'm ready!" she announced. Edward rolled his eyes and mouthed 'finally', while Alphonse looked exaggeratedly disappointed. Winry raised an eyebrow at the younger Elric brother.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Alphonse responded theatrically. "I was just… we don't get any 'hey, so what do you think, does it look good?' I feel very let down," he teased.

Winry laughed out loud, surprised at his words. "Well, I would ask that if it was just you here, Al, but since Ed's here as well…" She trailed off and raised her eyebrows, smirking at the sullen-looking older brother.

"I still think you should have done it," Alphonse mused out loud, a wicked glint in his eyes. He scooped up one of Winry's discarded dresses and pranced towards the full-length mirror in her room, holding the dress on him and comically fluttering his lashes. He turned to his brother and childhood friend, adopting a falsetto voice as he inquired,

"Does this make me look fat?"

Winry and Edward stared for a heartbeat before bursting into laughter. While Alphonse had no problems eating or performing bodily functions anymore, his build was still skinny, and the absurdly inappropriate question made them chortle. "I-I'm sorry!" Winry spluttered, clutching her aching sides. "But you… you _need _something to make you look fat, my dear!"

Edward managed to control his laughter and got up, gently bopping his brother on the head. "Yes," he spoke with a completely straight face, "it makes you look like an overweight hippopotamus."

And with that, they all dissolved into laughter again.

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"I never agreed to go shopping," Edward grumbled, laden with bags. Winry elbowed him playfully and took a few bags from him.

"We had to kill time, didn't we? That Drachman cultural festival had already started by the time we got there, so we couldn't get in, remember?" Edward grunted in response, and Alphonse, on his other side, chuckled under his breath.

"Brother's just crabby since no one asked him where he'd like to go, isn't that right, brother?"

Edward pressed his lips together and didn't answer. Winry smiled at him and shook her head indulgently.

"Follow me," she spoke, taking off in a completely different direction. Her heels clacked against the pavement as she made her way down an alley. Edward and Alphonse's eyes widened, and they dashed towards her at the same time.

"Stupid girl! Do you want to get yourself assaulted?" Edward muttered, while Alphonse grabbed Winry's wrist to stop her. At the feel of his bony fingers, Winry came to a halt almost at once, staring at the two brothers in bemusement.

"What?"

Edward exhaled in one sharp breath. "Now, I don't know how things work in Rush Valley, Winry, but I'm sure you're not that dense to the ways of the world," he spoke scathingly, trying to hide the slight tremor in his voice. "Don't _do_ that, you idiotic girl."

Alphonse said nothing, but Winry could see how troubled his face was as she turned to look at him.

"I'm sorry, you guys," she spoke in a quiet voice, "but I wasn't in any danger, I promise. This is just a really short alleyway, and it was a shortcut, so I figured I'd take it."

"Shortcut to _where_?" Edward's voice cracked alarmingly, and Winry laughed in spite of herself. Edward scowled and massaged his throat discreetly.

"Oh shut up, it happens," he spoke crossly. Winry covered her hand with one mouth and pointed down the alley.

"To there." Edward and Alphonse both followed her gaze and saw the giant bookstore, its windows piled with thick tomes. Edward's mouth dropped open in amazement, while Alphonse looked at Winry, noticing the guilt on her face.

"Sorry, Winry," he said gently, "but we were just worried." Winry nodded, scratching sheepishly at her temple.

"I know. I really am sorry."

"Forget about that!" Edward interrupted, his expression rapt. "Let's _go_!" He grabbed Alphonse's wrist in one hand, Winry's in the other and hauled them towards the store.

"Wait! What about our reservations?" Winry protested. "It's almost nine!"

Edward paused, and he and Alphonse shared a look. "You're right," Edward admitted, sounding defeated as he turned back. "At least it'll still be there tomorrow, right?"

Winry sucked in a breath and looked from one face to another, after which she looked beyond both of them and at the bookstore.

"Hey, I think I see a street vendor there," she commented, a smile creeping onto her face. "Looks like he's selling hot dogs?" Edward and Alphonse frowned, flummoxed at her sudden change of topic. Winry laughed, leaning forward to peck both of them on the cheek.

"Forget about that stupid restaurant, guys. There's always tomorrow."

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**AN: 1,166 words. I got that line about Alphonse saying 'does this make me look fat?' stuck in my head and couldn't get rid of it, so I concocted this. I certainly hope you enjoyed it! (Why is Ed's voice cracking when he's over sixteen? Who knows?)**


	12. Silver Notes

_Silver Notes_

**AN: Because the ending of FMA, as darn brilliant as it was, did not have enough Lingfan. :(**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_**.**

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"Your Highness! _Your Highness!_"

The Royal Palace of Xing was racked with panic as attendants scampered from room to room, their hands cupped around their mouths as they hollered for their emperor. One of the more elderly attendants paused to catch his breath and wryly thought that only young Emperor Ling could possibly decide to skip out on a foreign dignitary visit.

"Where _is_ that foolish boy?" a young woman panted, her dark eyes narrowed with anger. "Honestly, I've almost had it with him…"

"Hush," another, older woman reprimanded her gently. "You know better than to speak of our emperor like that."

The young woman rolled her eyes and was about to examine a nearby bathing room for the third time when she froze. Everyone around her paused in response and waited for her to speak.

Finally – "Do you hear that?" the young woman spoke in wonder. "Someone is playing…"

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Lips worked against the cool metal of the mouthpiece with passionate intensity. The sound that issued forth was lovely and delicate, and wove its way around the room. Fingers rapidly pressed down on different keys to create different sounds. Eyes were half-lidded and eventually dropped closed.

Lanfan's face was aflame, and it felt like every single red blood cell had rushed to her cheeks. She could not believe that she was doing this – and with her emperor, no less!

Finally, the flute's silver sounds died down, and the flautist's eyes opened. Lanfan swallowed and avoided her emperor's eyes.

"That… that was beautiful, Your Highness," she muttered, wishing she'd never been 'bullied' into teaching him. Ling beamed at her and set the instrument down, looking extremely satisfied.

"Thank you, teacher," he spoke lightly, teasingly. "This western instrument certainly is lovely. How did your mother come by one?"

Her face still crimson, Lanfan muttered something about traders. Ling observed her steadily, noting the minute fidgeting that a Yao bodyguard would never show.

Then again, Lanfan wasn't simply a bodyguard.

"It's beautiful," he emphasized, patting her head gently. "Thank you for teaching me."

Lanfan ducked her head, wishing she didn't feel quite so bashful around the emperor. "Y-you're welcome."

She heard footsteps in the hallway and stiffened in shock. Ling looked around, tossed the flute at her and moved towards the open window, a mischievous smile on his face.

Just before he jumped out of the window, he turned back to Lanfan, his expression a jumble of emotions. "I'll be back tonight for more _lessons_," he sang, and leapt out of the room.

The attendants, who burst into the room seconds later, wondered why the emperor's finest guard was blushing so ferociously.

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**AN: 440 words. This is the first time I've dared to purposefully put an innuendo in one of my works. Ling just strikes me as that sort of person.**

**And yes, I still see him jumping out of windows, even as emperor. x) He's Ling, after all.**


	13. Lying Lips

_Lying Lips_

**AN: Spoilers for chapter 108! Or, you can just take it as a futurefic. Whatever you prefer! (Just as a note, the Olivia mentioned is a made-up character. Not to be mistaken with Major General Olivier Armstrong in any way.)  
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**Disclaimer: **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_** is not mine, and never will be. ): I do, however, own the three random people mentioned below.**

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"Have you heard about that Elric boy?"

Edward paused at the sound of his surname and turned, staring quizzically at a pair of elderly ladies. He didn't know the lady who'd spoken, but the other one – he recognized her. She'd been an old friend of granny Pinako's, and had even helped the family arrange her funeral.

"Of course," Mrs. Pendle replied gravely, "I've seen the boy around. Always was at Pinako's house as a child. Why, what's happened?"

Realizing that it would look odd if he was eavesdropping so blatantly – although he was pretty sure that half of the marketplace was doing the same, _that woman was so loud_ – he ducked behind a fruit stall and offered a rueful grin at the middle-aged man tending it. The fruit seller winked and bit into an apple.

"Have you heard about what he's doing?" the other woman continued, sounding positively scandalized. "He's following right after his father! I should have known that foreign blood would incite such things. Oh, if only those girls had been smart enough to just ignore them…"

"Get on with it, Olivia," Mrs. Pendle interrupted harshly. "Ed's a good boy, he wouldn't do anything wrong."

Edward smiled wryly to himself. He appreciated Mrs. Pendle sticking up for him, but he wasn't really a boy anymore, was he? _Almost a father…_ excitement burned in the pit of his stomach, but he managed to keep his focus on the conversation.

"_He's living with the Rockbell girl,_" Olivia hissed under her breath, somehow managing to make sure that the entire marketplace heard. "In the same house. I see them in the mornings sometimes, wandering outside together, hand and hand. And she's _expecting_! It's just like Van Hohenheim all over again, you mark my words."

Edward did not feel a surge of anger because of the mention of his father – he'd made his peace with Hohenheim's grave. No, he felt angered because he was pretty sure what this Olivia woman was getting at.

Mrs. Pendle hesitated. "Come now, Olivia," she spoke cautiously, "they just haven't gotten around to registering their name in the family register yet. I heard that they had a quiet little ceremony in the outskirts of Central, not too long ago."

"It's deceitful and it's sinful, that's what it is," Olivia plowed on, catching the trailing ends of her shawl and flipping them over one shoulder. "And I'd hate to see young Winry get hurt by that rascal."

Mrs. Pendle let out a sigh. "Olivia," she spoke wearily, "please don't tell me that you're _still_ biased against those boys? It was fifteen years ago, my dear!"

"This has nothing to do with that!" Olivia snapped. "But mark my words, Fiona; I knew that boy would be a bad one from that day on!"

"Olivia," Mrs. Pendle replied, sounding amused, "they turned your clay figures into flowerpots. I thought they looked far more tasteful."

Edward heard a loud 'hmmph!' from Olivia as the two old women sailed away. He rubbed his forehead harshly, wondering whether to laugh or to swear.

"You can't stop those old mouths from gossiping," the fruit seller commented. "I suggest you get back home to your girl and forget all about this."

Edward got up from behind the fruit stall and nodded, sticking his hands into his pockets as he strolled away. The man was right. He couldn't stop them. But honestly, no one in Resembool seemed to have any sense anymore.

When he told Winry the story, she laughed till tears ran down her face. "Oh!" she sighed, wiping at her cheeks, "but they _need_ something to chatter about, Ed. You just happen to be the best target." She offered him a sly smile. "What with your short temper and all."

He rolled his eyes. "Win," he replied in a long-suffering tone, "I got over that _years_ ago."

She prodded him in the shoulder. "Only one."

He shrugged. "Whatever. But I just didn't know how to react." Edward paused, glancing down at the slender golden band that encircled his ring finger.

"I mean, how do I tell them that you just refused to accept my last name?"

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**AN: A silly bit of nonsense, since I totally see Winry staying a Rockbell for the rest of her life. Maybe she'll bend a little and become Rockbell-Elric, if Ed's lucky. :P I became rather fond of Olivia during this short piece. I might use her again someday!**

**692 words.**


	14. My Dying Day

_My Dying Day_

**AN: Angst-ish, I guess. I actually cried a bit while writing this, although I don't think it really has THAT much emotion in it. I'm better at more subtle angst, I guess, haha.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_**.**

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"Well. It's time."

She sniffed and drew a hand over her eyes. "Shut up, you fool. How on earth would you know that?"

He smiled at her, and the skin around his eyes crinkled up. Those eyes – they hadn't changed at all since back then, she reflected. As beautiful and haunting as ever. He hadn't been plagued by bad eyesight in his old age, amazingly enough. She still wondered why, especially when her own spectacles irritated her so much.

"I feel it in my bones," he replied softly, reaching out to touch her face tentatively. "You know it, too. It's almost over."

"Don't." Her voice was rough. "Let me keep pretending… just for a little while, let me stay in this world."

He fell silent, and she held his hand to her cheek. He'd never been that comfortable with romantic gestures, but he let her know how much he loved her in everything he did. And now he was leaving.

"I wanted to die before you," she spoke, her voice cracking. "I… I really did. Because you hadn't left me behind before, not really, not truly. But now you are."

"Liar." He grinned tiredly. "You just thought of that."

Winry Rockbell-Elric inhaled sharply and leaned forward to press her forehead against her husband's. "Okay, so maybe I did," she admitted, tears slowly dripping down her cheeks. "But it sort of sounded good."

"No, it didn't." Edward closed his eyes as if her words had wounded him, deeply and permanently. "Don't think that, Winry. Don't ever think that."

She swallowed and moved backwards, but he tugged her lightly until she was resting on the bed next to him. "When I used my life energy to heal myself, all those years ago, I knew I'd miss some things. I would've missed things anyway." His eyes grew sad. "Still wish it wasn't the birth of my youngest son's first child that I'm missing, though."

Winry breathed in and successfully avoided hysteria. "You might still have some time left," she pointed out, but the words sounded false, even to herself. "The baby's due in a few more days. You might see it."

Edward shook his head and rested his chin in her hair. Winry was glad – she didn't have to look at his face, didn't have to see the peaceful, untroubled expression on it. Why was he so calm about this? she screamed inwardly. Why didn't he _fight_? It was what Edward Elric did best!

"Shh," he spoke tenderly, and she wondered when exactly he'd started being so gentle. "It's okay, Win. It's okay. I'm not scared."

She shifted slightly and pressed her face against his chest. "I am, though." Her voice shook. "I'm scared."

He coughed, and she could feel the vibrations of his rib cage. "I lied. I am, too. Sort of." She smiled into his shirt, knowing that he wasn't, but feeling better about the lie.

"Do you want me to call Al?" she murmured, basking in the warmth of his body – warmth that would soon be gone. Edward sighed, and the sound was like a whisper of wind.

"Yeah. Can you?"

Winry nodded and slid off the bed, her graying hair falling around her like a veil. She padded out of the room and down the hall, where she gently knocked on the younger Elric brother's door.

Alphonse was out in an instant. "Winry? What's happened? How is brother?" he asked anxiously. Alphonse still looked young, Winry reflected, even though he was only a year younger than herself. How did he manage that?

"He's asking for you," she murmured, turning and hurrying back to their room. "Come on."

Alphonse followed her silently.

When Winry entered the room again, she took her usual spot by her husband's side. "Ed," she whispered, "Al is here. Like you asked."

Edward's eyes were closed. He'd taken to falling asleep at the strangest moments lately, but Winry thought it was a bit odd for him to be asleep when she'd only been gone a few seconds. She frowned in confusion as Alphonse moved closer.

"Brother?" Alphonse spoke quietly. "Brother, I'm here."

No response. And Winry finally understood what had happened.

She pressed her hands to her face as she began to weep. Her body shook, and she could hear Alphonse crying as well. They sobbed quietly as Edward Elric smiled on. He hadn't wanted to worry them, hadn't wanted to share the final, private moment with anyone else. He was the hero of the people, but he could be so selfish sometimes.

"You idiot," Winry spoke, her voice thick with tears, "you couldn't even let us have this much, could you?"

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**AN: 819 words. Ed seems like a person who'd want to be alone at the exact moment he died, because he wouldn't want to scare the people he loved. Of course, to me, that's a selfish way of looking at things, but, well…**


	15. Graveside

_Graveside_

**AN: Just a little family piece. Bit on the sad side, I guess? And yes, I know I picked a terribly original title. x)  
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**Disclaimer: **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_** is not mine!**

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"Hey."

Edward Elric stared down at the pair of gravestones, his stomach churning uncomfortably. He'd never been good with showing his emotions.

"Mom." He decided to start with the more comfortable of his two options. "How are you? We're all doing fine here. Al got married a couple of days ago, to that Xingese girl I was telling you about. He's now related to the royal family of Xing – isn't that something? Ling likes calling him brother-in-law, and Al gets sort of flustered by that." He smiled faintly. "Typical Al. But he's really happy, mom. Mei makes him so happy."

He settled down in front of the graves and turned his attention to the other gravestone. Edward reached out and gently traced over the words _Van Hohenheim_.

"Hey, old man." The words sounded almost foreign on his tongue. "You happy with mom? You'd better be. You'd better be keeping her happy."

Edward smiled slightly as he realized that he sounded like the father. "It's weird," he continued quietly, letting his hands drop into his lap, "that I can only talk like this to you when you're dead." He blinked rapidly to make sure that there was no moisture in his eyes.

"Winry gave birth a week ago," he added, his voice sinking into a whisper. "He's beautiful, mom. He loves to cry, though." He smiled ruefully. "I have a feeling he's going to grow up to be a lot like me. I'm just glad it wasn't a girl. Not because I have anything against girls," Edward hastened to add, "but because I don't want a baby girl so close to Mustang's brat's age. She'd probably go and fall in love with him, and then I'd be mad." He sighed, leaning back and staring up at the sky.

"Where are you?" he spoke quietly. "Can you hear me?"

"Ed." Warm hands slipped around his shoulders, and lips grazed the top of his head. "Hey."

He placed his hands on top of hers and let the tears slide down his cheeks. "I miss them," he spoke thickly, almost incredulously. "Even _him_. I miss him."

"I know." Winry's eyes were full as she laid her head on top of his, her knees pressed against the ground. "I know, Ed."

Ed turned into her and sank into her embrace, his body shaking. Winry cradled him to her body and rocked him gently, her own tears leaking down her face.

He didn't ask why she was at the cemetery when she should have been at home, resting. She didn't ask why he hadn't gone to the market like he said he was. For once, there were no questions, and no answers.

Funnily enough, he was all right with that.

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**AN: 454 words. I had a weird idea of Ed talking to his parents' graves, like Hohenheim talked to Trisha's in volume 11. ^^;; Didn't come out as planned, but I like it. Making Ed cry is oddly fun.**

**I have a feeling that mothers who have just given birth can't actually move around… but can we pretend, please?**


	16. Domestic

_Domestic_

**AN: Just a light, purposeless piece. Future fic!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_** in any way or form!**

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"… and remember, don't talk to that boy. Hell, don't even _look_ at him, you hear me? He's bad news. **Bad news**. You stay away from him!"

"Da-ad." She heard an irritated huff. "I don't even _like_ Michael. He's annoying. Don't worry, I won't go anywhere near him! Auntie Riza promised we'd meet up with Elysia and auntie Gracia. Sarah's going to be there, too, so I'll stay with her. I promise."

Winry Rockbell-Elric laughed to herself as her husband let out an enormous sigh of relief. "Good," Edward coughed, looking rather red in the face. "That's, er, good."

Winry snickered softly, and her daughter turned at the sound. "Mom!" Anita Elric raced towards her mother and flung herself at her midsection. "Daddy's being weird again!"

Winry smiled fondly and ruffled her daughter's light golden hair. "Is he, now?" she asked out loud, shooting Edward a meaningful look over their daughter's head. Edward didn't look apologetic at all – he rolled his eyes and mouthed 'you know I'm right!' at her instead. Winry sighed; some things would never change.

"Daddy's just worried about you, Nin," she spoke patiently, hugging the girl's head to her. "Although in this case, I think he's just being paranoid."

The ten-year-old girl pulled herself away from the embrace and looked up at her mother with round blue eyes. "I really don't like Mike, mom, really. He pulls at my hair and says mean things! I hate him!"

Winry couldn't stop smiling. "I know, baby. Just forget about him for now, okay? You have a good time with Elysia, Sarah and your aunties."

"Yeah!" Anita's eyes shone. "I'm going to go get my backpack, mom!" She scampered off to her bedroom.

"Ed," Winry sighed, "go easy on her. She's too young for your warnings against Michael. And for goodness' sake, just because he's Mustang's son…"

"I don't trust that jerk's offspring," Edward muttered, moving across the room and hugging her briefly. "He'll spirit my daughter away, just you watch."

Winry rolled her eyes and allowed herself to sink into his embrace. "This isn't a romance novel, Ed. Like the ones I _know_ you've been reading off my shelf," she added pointedly, grinning to herself while her husband spluttered in indignation.

Edward grumbled and dropped his arms, releasing her from his embrace, though his hip still bumped against hers. "If she falls in love with him…"

"_Ed_. Stop it." Winry smiled at him affectionately. "Let the girl enjoy her vacation in Central. And have you packed your bags yet?"

Edward snorted. "Of course I have," he responded, sounding injured. "I'm not that disorganized."

"Really." Winry raised her eyebrows. "What about that time we were supposed to go to Xing to visit Al and Mei, and you didn't start packing until an hour before we had to leave for the ship?"

Edward flushed. "That was just one time! Geez, woman," he grumbled. Winry laughed and pecked his cheek lightly.

"C'mon, let's go get our stuff." Edward nodded, his eyes gentle. Winry never got tired of seeing such an expression on his face – although he could still be abrasive, fatherhood had mellowed Edward like nothing else possibly could. She liked to think that motherhood had had positive effects on her personality, as well, but Edward always complained about how she hadn't grown out of being a machine junky.

"And yet, you still married me," she pointed out each time, and he could never come up with a witty enough retort.

Winry and Edward hauled the suitcases down to the ground floor of their house, where Anita was waiting. She was bright-eyed and eager to be off, her trusty red backpack slung over her shoulders. Winry shook her head at the color choice and wondered if it was too early to be making comparisons between father and daughter.

"It's not fair that brother's been there for three weeks already," Anita grumbled as she held onto her mother's hand. Edward locked up the house, his eyes darting back and forth to make sure that no window was left open. Winry gazed down at their daughter and wondered, not for the first time, how they could have possibly created something so perfect. Maes Hughes' obsession with his Elysia made a lot more sense now.

"You'll see Taylor soon enough," she smiled as Edward pocketed the key and strolled over, ruffling his daughter's hair. "And when you're older, you'll be allowed to go to Central with uncle Al, too."

Anita beamed at her words and slipped her other hand into Edward's. Winry sighed happily as she dragged a suitcase behind them, the fingers of her right hand wrapped firmly around Anita's.

They'd come a long way in all these years, she reflected. And yet, some things never changed.

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**AN: 794 words. I wrote this entire thing just to put in overprotective Ed. The gag about him being worried that his daughter will fall for Mustang's son is overdone, I know! ^^;; I just wanted to write something gentle, after the two angst-y pieces before this.**


	17. Smolder

_Smolder_

**AN: This sort of ties in with the last piece, **_**Domestic**_**.**

**Disclaimer: **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_** is not mine, unfortunately!**

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"Nin, I love you."

His voice was steady, but she could detect an undercurrent of rawness. His words truly took her by surprise, and she wondered how long he'd been keeping this to himself. They were both twenty-four years old – he was serving in the military, like his parents had done, and she was trying to decide what to do with her life. She gazed at him sadly, wishing he'd never taken this step.

"Michael," she spoke softly, "don't. Please."

He inhaled sharply. "Is this about your father?" he asked, his blue eyes fixed on her own. "Because I don't care about that, Nin. I don't care that he hates me. I can handle it, I promise."

The corners of her lips went up in a half-smile. She hadn't even thought about her father yet. The grin grew a little wider as she remembered his countless warnings against Michael, when they were both younger. What would he think of this situation? Anita Elric shook her head. She knew her father just wanted her to be happy.

"No, it's not about that," she replied gently. "Daddy was never serious about all of that. He doesn't hate you, Mike."

Michael Mustang closed his eyes, his black hair falling over his forehead. "Then what?" he whispered. "Is it… Nin, I always thought…"

Anita's eyes narrowed. "That I loved you?" she completed his sentence for him. Although she was upset, there wasn't any accusatory anger in her voice. "I do, Michael." When his eyes shot open and his head came up, she continued, "But not in the way you want me to."

Michael's eyes were on fire, she could see that. They shone with countless emotions, and to her intense surprise, she couldn't tell which was strongest. Michael was usually easy to read, at least for her.

"Is there someone else?" he asked roughly. "I don't have any chance?"

Anita couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her. Michael looked at her quizzically and almost angrily as she stifled her giggles with one hand. "No, no," she finally spoke, after catching her breath. "It's not you, I just thought it was such an overdone line…"

Michael smiled grudgingly. "Okay, so maybe it is," he admitted, finally settling down on one of the chairs in the living room, "but I've hardly learned from experience, have I? I've only learned from the media around me." He smiled at her again, and it looked stronger.

Anita took a seat next to him. "I'm sorry, Mike," she said softly. "I'm really sorry."

Michael shut his eyes and shook his head slightly. "It's not your fault," he replied quietly.

Anita gazed at him and took in his face – his thick, proudly arched eyebrows, his straight, classical nose, his thin lips and his brilliant eyes. She loved this face, she reflected, but she could never come to be in love with it.

She gazed around her living room and wondered where her parents had gone. Her train of thought was broken as Michael repeated his last question – "Is there someone else?"

Anita's mind immediately flashed to something else altogether – to an angled face with dark, slanted eyes and an infectious, if not rare, smile. She knew he was the son of an emperor, and that once Ling grew older, that he would be obsessed with becoming king himself. She knew he could never fall in love with a foreigner. It didn't matter – she still loved him.

"It isn't important," she smiled at Michael. "It doesn't matter."

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**AN: 585 words. I actually wrote **_**Domestic**_** with the idea in mind that Anita would not fall in love with Michael when she was older. And then this popped into my head. My first piece with only OCs, and I apologize if it seems odd. ^^;; I like Anita a lot, though. :) And even poor Michael.**


	18. Questions

_Questions_

**AN: DON'T KILL ME. PLEASE. -cowers-**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_**.**

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I don't mean to brag, but I'm a fairly tough person. Life has seen fit to throw me quite a few twists, and although I've cried over them sometimes, I've managed to move on.

But sometimes, it's really not that easy.

I still keep a picture of my parents and myself on my bedside table, and as happy as it makes me, it also makes me wish they'd come home. I call Gracia Hughes weekly and as confident and assured as she sounds, I wonder what Elysia tells her friends when they ask about her daddy.

But what tears me up the most is when my babies come home from school and ask me where their grandparents are. I'm not like Edward – I don't think they're ready to know the whole story yet. So I just smile at them and tell them that their grandparents are far, far away, in a nice place – but something inside me crumbles. I hate to see them wanting anything, and I know they will want answers – real answers – soon.

How will I be able to make them understand?

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**AN: 184 words. This is muddled, and I'll rework it soon, but something makes me feel that Winry hates it when her kids – innocently, of course – ask where grandma and grandpa are, because she has no idea what to tell them.**


	19. Mea Culpa

_Mea Culpa_

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_**, no siree.**

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"Are you sure you want to do this?" Winry Rockbell's mouth tightens at his cautious words. She isn't angry with him – she's merely tired of him trying to talk her out of this. Can't he see that she _needs _to do this?

"Ed." Her voice is a quiet rebuke. "Shh. I'm sure."

Edward falls silent, but his grip on her arm does not loosen. She's almost glad, in a way – he's always been protective of her, and she appreciates that, but he can't protect her from everything.

"I just want to talk to them," she adds softly. "And to tell them that it isn't their fault."

Edward's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. He's scared for her, she realizes – scared, but confident in her decision. He's known her for so long, he knows she won't break. And if she does, he's there. The thought is comforting, if not unnecessary – she won't break.

He nods and his hand slips from her upper arm, down to her palm. He tightens his grasp on her fingers, and she gives him a reassuring smile as they both step forward, towards the ruins of the once-great Xerxes.

The ride there was tough, although the fact that Edward had regained his right arm made it much easier on him than the first time. Winry had found it extremely tiring, but she hadn't said anything – she'd said what she needed to to Scar, but she wanted to meet these other two Ishbalans.

As if on cue, Mistress Shan appears from the ruins. "I remember you," the elderly Ishbalan lady says quietly. "You're that child that Amir tried to take hostage, aren't you?"

Edward inclines his head. "I am, Mistress Shan," he replies. "But I'm not here about that. I've brought someone to see you."

"Oh?" The woman turns her single eye on Winry. "Hello there, my dear. Who might you be?"

Winry's throat closes over as she stares at the old woman. She looks _broken_ – years of living amongst the ruins, she guesses. Mustang is working hard on integrating the Ishbalan lands back into Amestris, but this ragtag group has been living in the desert for years.

Despite the woman's frail appearance, Winry sees a keen intelligence in her eye. She inhales deeply and replies, in a steady voice – "I'm Winry Rockbell, ma'am. The daughter of the doctors."

Mistress Shan's eye widens, and she moves forward. "I see that," she speaks quietly. "You look just like them – hair of sunlight, eyes of blue." Tentatively, the Ishbalan woman reaches towards her. "Oh, my child," she murmurs, "can you ever forgive me?"

Winry feels tears rise to her eyes as the old woman begins to weep bitterly. "Don't cry," she whispers, releasing Edward's hand and moving towards Mistress Shan. "Please… it wasn't your fault."

"It was," Mistress Shan chokes out, her shoulders heaving. "We could have done something. Your parents saved our lives, and we let them die."

Without a single thought, Winry reaches out and embraces the poor, trembling woman. How long must she have carried this burden? Winry wonders.

"It's not your fault," Winry repeats. "I don't blame you at all. It's not your fault."

Edward watches the two of them, a silent spectator – and he wishes that he'd learned Winry's brand of strength earlier.

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**AN: 548 words. **_**Mea culpa**_** is Latin for 'my fault'.**


	20. First Name Basis

_First Name Basis_

**AN: FMA ending spoilers! Post-manga.**

**Disclaimer: No, **_**Fullmetal Alchemist**_** is NOT mine. Stop tempting me.**

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"Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir?"

"… I'm glad you didn't die."

"I, too, am glad I didn't die."

"Stop making fun of me."

"I am being utterly serious, sir."

"You'll be the death of me."

"I hope not."

"…"

"I'm glad you had your sight returned to you."

"Thanks."

"So, what now?"

"Well, they're putting me in charge of Ishbal affairs. That might mean moving back to Eastern Headquarters."

"Central _has_ lost some of its appeal. Hopefully, less people will try to kill us in the east."

"Haha, I'm not entirely sure about that, unfortunately. Does this mean you're coming with me?"

"It's a little late for you to try to get rid of me, sir."

"Stop being so formal, lieutenant."

"I'll stop as soon as you do, colonel."

"I'm not a colonel anymore."

"And I won't be a lieutenant for long, _sir_."

"Lieutenant."

"Colonel."

"LIEUTENANT."

"Yes, sir?"

"_Hawkeye_."

"I suppose that will do for the time being… Roy."

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**AN: 157 words. I've always wanted to do a conversation-only piece, but maybe these two weren't the best characters to choose for it. As it is, they don't speak in words to each other, but rather, through actions. :P Hawkeye seems a little OOC in the last line, I think – but at the same time, she strikes me as less afraid to use Roy's first name. And who knows, maybe she's just teasing, haha.**


	21. Young

_Young_

**AN: Wow, it's… been a while. Wow. Anyway, I have no idea where this came from, and I don't know where the title came from, either.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Fullmetal Alchemist.**_

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It was a small, quiet funeral.

Urey Rockbell stood beside his mother, clothed in a hastily tailored black suit. Pinako's face was blank – her jaw was tight, but it did not quiver, and her body was still. The only signs of her distress were the tears that silently slid down her face.

Urey clutched Sara's hand and watched his mother through the corners of his eyes. He knew perfectly well that Pinako had fooled around in her time – but when she had met Kimball Rockbell, she'd devoted herself to him. His mother wasn't the most expressive or affectionate person, but he could always tell that she loved them, him and his father. It was the little things that counted – a pat on the head, a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day without him asking, staying up late so that Kimball wouldn't have to go to sleep alone.

He reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his mother's shoulder. His throat was tight and his insides felt as if they'd been tied in knots, but he knew he needed to be strong for his mother. He would let out his own tears later.

Urey watched solemnly as his father's casket was lowered into the ground. Pinako shuddered a bit under his hand, but he tightened his grip fractionally and she grew still. Trisha let out an anxious sound and moved closer to Pinako to grasp her hand firmly. Urey appreciated the gesture and made a note to thank Trisha later.

"Mom," he spoke softly as they walked away from the cemetery and towards their house, "I've decided I'm going to become a surgeon. Just like you and dad." Pinako glanced at him tiredly, and Urey worriedly noted how frail she looked. She seemed to be stooping slightly, and the smile she gave him was half-hearted.

"That's good to hear," she responded. "I'm proud of you, and your dad would be, too."

Urey swallowed. "I'm going to make sure you never cry again, mom."

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Well, he'd tried.

Pinako Rockbell, now much older and wiser, laid flowers on the grave of her son and his wife. It was terrible, she mused, that a parent should have to bury her child. It was awful that she, wrinkled old thing that she was, had had to bury so many young ones. They'd been so eager and full of hope, ready to take on the world…

She sighed and got to her feet, drawing one hand over her eyes. Urey, Sara, Trisha… she hoped they were all resting peacefully.

It wouldn't be long before the world would belong to the young again.

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**AN: 439 words.**


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